That's When You Know
by Hikari Kaitou
Summary: Germany slowly begins to realize, as he observes his ally in various everyday situations, that his feelings for Italy have evolved over time... Now if only he could identify what exactly they'd become. Written for the kink meme
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Whew, it's been a while, but I'm back. I've been lurking around on the Hetalia kink meme, doing GerIta fills like a beast but I knew that deanonning with one of these would mean deanonning with some of the fills I'm not so proud of as well. Well, my review whorish nature got the better of me so I suppose I'll probably eventually deanon here with the ones I didn't hate.

* * *

It was hard to pinpoint the exact moment when he started feeling _that way_ about Italy, but if Germany had to take a guess, he would say it had started that day about seven months ago. The day itself hadn't been anything special, besides the fact that it was the first time that the two of them had ever spent time together purely for social reasons. True, they had had lunch and drinks and sweets together many times, but it was always after work or between meetings.

Today was different though. Germany had awoken on his day off with the sun shining brightly in his face through the crack in the curtains. Sniffling and rubbing his eyes groggily, he went to the window and looked outside. The sight of the beautiful autumn day beyond the glass filled him with contentment and he opened the window to let in the breeze. Sunlight streamed through the brilliant red and yellow-leafed trees, casting ethereal colored patterns on the ground below. He could see children playing in the park nearby, their laughter ringing through the crisp fall air. Germany closed his eyes, letting the gentle breeze ruffle his hair, thinking it was the perfect day to take his dogs out for a walk. He'd just have a shower and be off.

It was while he was in the shower, of course, that Italy decided to drop in on him. This was by no means the first time this had happened, so while Germany was shocked by the sudden interruption, he wasn't shocked that his friend had the audacity to do such a thing. He finished washing the last of the shampoo from his hair before turning on Italy with a scowl.

"Italy!" he barked. "What have I told you about bursting in on me while I'm in the shower?"

"But Germany!" Italy babbled excitedly. "Have you seen how nice it is outside? It's warm and sunny and all the leaves have changed color and it's really pretty! I brought some food from my house! Let's go have a picnic!"

Germany briefly considered that proposal. Admittedly, it did sound pretty appealing. Regardless of the amount of trouble Italy usually ended up causing him, he did have an innocent, earnest sort of charm about him and Germany did enjoy his company sometimes. Spending the day outside with a friend in such nice weather would be a good way to unwind after a stressful week. Then he remembered that he still wasn't wearing anything and put on his stern face once more.

"Before we do anything, get out of here and let me finish my shower!" he ordered. "Don't ask me questions when I'm naked!"

Germany threw his towel at Italy's face, chasing him out of the bathroom.

…And that was how Germany found himself in a quiet part of the park near his house, sitting on a blanket next to Italy, watching the smaller man pull an impressive array of dishes from the basket he had brought. The blond looked on in amazement and even anticipation as Italy laid the food out in front of them. He wasn't especially good at giving compliments so he wasn't sure if Italy was aware of it, but he had always really enjoyed the Italian's cooking. The rich, mouthwatering scents of basil, tomatoes and garlic crashed over him and made his stomach growl loudly. Italy looked over at him with a grin.

"Hee hee! Are you hungry, Germany?" he giggled.

Germany cleared his throat, his face coloring slightly as he put a hand over his noisy stomach in a weak attempt to quiet it. "Sorry about that."

Italy waved his friend's apology aside cheerfully. "I'm glad! I made this food with lots of love so I could share it with Germany! I would be sad if you weren't even hungry!"

Germany stared at the little Italian in wonder. He hadn't really noticed it until this very moment, but Italy really seemed to be in his element right now. Chattering happily about the different foods he had brought for Germany to taste, explaining which wines complimented them the best, expressing his feelings so freely and fearlessly… It almost made him forget Italy's usual uselessness.

Germany's awareness of the situation deepened as he took in his friend's appearance in addition to his actions. Now that he thought of it, he had never really looked at Italy before. Of course he could give a physical description of him if needed but he had never truly looked at him. The dappled early afternoon sunlight peered through the trees and caught his silky chestnut hair, giving it a pleasant luster, that one stubborn curl fluttering in the wind. His lively chocolate-brown eyes sparkled with vitality as they fixed on the plate of food he was preparing for Germany, and at this proximity, he could see delicate shades of amber in them as well. Italy's round cheeks were touched with a healthy hint of pink, and his lips were full and soft-looking. It had never occurred to him before, but Italy was really quite beautiful.

Italy looked up from the plate he had just finished preparing for his friend with a sunny smile. "I think you're really going to like the manicotti today!" he chirped. "I made the noodles from scratch and bought the cheese fresh from the farm this morning!"

"It smells good," Germany admitted, willing his stomach not to growl again.

Italy took a fork in his slim fingers and expertly scooped up a bit of the manicotti before holding it up to Germany's mouth. The sight of Italy's eager eyes and soft smile as he offered to spoon feed him caused a curious, unfamiliar tugging sensation in Germany's chest. What was this feeling? Germany could honestly say he had never experienced it before. It made his heart race and his cheeks feel warm. The blond accepted Italy's assistance uncertainly. His eyes widened in shock as the taste of the manicotti spread across his tongue in a burst of expertly blended bold and subtle flavors. The mild creamy cheese flawlessly complimented the rich, earthy essence of the tomato sauce. The lovingly homemade noodles were perfect in texture and consistency. In short, it was heavenly. Italy had really out done himself this time.

"What do you think, Germany?" the smaller man asked hopefully. "Do you like it?"

Germany swallowed, almost reluctant to let that heavenly flavor leave his mouth. "It's delicious. I've had manicotti before, but never like this."

Italy hummed joyfully, his cheeks pinked with pleasure at his friend's compliment. "Wah, I'm so happy! I worked really hard to make it just right for Germany so I was pretty nervous just now! Oh, and wait until you've tried this wine! It's just perfect for manicotti!"

Germany felt that strange sensation in his chest again when their fingers brushed as Italy passed him a glass of wine. What a curious feeling. Surely it wasn't normal for a person's face to feel hot and their heart to suddenly speed up for no apparent reason. Perhaps he would have to stop by the doctor's office sometime this week. He made a mental note of it as Italy finished filling his own plate and scooted over to sit closer to Germany.


	2. Chapter 2

After that time, there were several instances where Germany experienced that strange, warm, fluttery feeling around Italy. It seemed to happen at the most random times; when they were cooking together, or shopping together or when Italy would catch his eye and smile at him from across the table during meetings. But those times always felt like the first, just a tiny, subtle stirring in his chest. It wasn't until a few weeks later that he experienced the feeling more powerfully.

Germany was out in his garden, doing some yard work and general tidying while Italy kept his dogs entertained nearby. He looked up from the hedges he was trimming at a burst of melodic laughter from the Italian. Aster, his German shepherd, had Italy pinned to the ground and was licking his face playfully. Italy giggled and squirmed, trying to escape the warm wet tongue, though Blackie and Berlitz, Germany's other dogs, seemed interested in getting a piece of the action as well and weren't about to let him get away. That strange fluttering feeling was beginning in his chest again and before Germany could stop himself, he could feel a small smile tugging at his lips.

Shaking his head a little in an attempt to clear the strangely fuzzy feeling that was invading it, Germany turned back to the hedges he was clipping. That's when something shiny and brown lying on the ground between the bushes caught his eye. A closer look revealed it to be a broken beer bottle, the label displaying the name of one of Prussia's favorite brands.

Germany sighed and shook his head in exasperation as he leaned down to pick up the pieces. A sharp pain shot through his fingertips, causing him to jerk his hand away and hiss in pain. He examined his hand and found a slice across the pads of his two middle fingers. The cuts didn't look too deep but there was a surprising amount of blood. Two fat drops leaked from the wound and pattered on the grass.

"Germany?" came Italy's terrified voice. Germany whirled around to see Italy running towards him at full speed. Admittedly, Germany was rather surprised; he had only ever seen Italy run that fast when he was retreating. "Germany? Are you hurt?"

"It's only a little cut, Italy," Germany said calmly. "No need to worry."

"Let me see!" Italy demanded, snatching his friends hand and examining it. He gasped. "Blood! Germany is bleeding!"

"Well, it's a cut," Germany shrugged. "Those do tend to bleed."

"Oh god, what do we do?" Italy muttered to himself, his eyes darting around frantically. "Germany's hurt! And there's blood! Um… Calm down, Germany! I-I'm sure it's not as bad as it looks!"

Germany frowned slightly. "The only one who isn't calm here is you."

"W-we'll get you inside and wash them out and put on some Elastoplasts and you'll be ok!" the Italian assured him. He looked ready to hyperventilate. "Just… Just stay calm, ok?"

With the same impressive speed he had displayed before, he half dragged Germany into the house and made a beeline for the bathroom sink. Germany watched Italy's face in sheer bewilderment as the smaller man thrust his hand under the stream of cold water from the tap. Why was Italy making such a big deal over such a small amount of blood? It's not like he'd never seen blood before. There were actually tears running down his cheeks.

"D-don't cry, Germany…" Italy sniffled, making no effort to stem his own tears. "It'll b-be ok… Don't cry…"

"I'm not, though," Germany replied in exasperation. That strange feeling in his chest was growing, though. He was touched by the Italian's concern, even if it was completely over the top. The fact that he was holding Germany's hand didn't help, either.

"S-silly Germany," Italy stammered. "I can f-feel your tears falling on my arms…"

Germany rolled his eyes. _Those are your own tears! Can't you even tell?_ But he decided that perhaps it was better if he didn't press the matter.

When Italy was satisfied that Germany's cuts had been properly washed out, he hurriedly opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out a tube of antibiotic ointment and a box of bandages. Germany watched in silence as Italy squeezed out what looked like about a fourth of the tube of ointment and wrapped about four bandages around each injured finger. Italy was cooing what he assumed were meant to be soothing words at him in Italian, though the effect was somewhat undermined by the fact that he kept hiccupping as his tears slowed to a stop.

Once Italy was satisfied that Germany's wounds had been properly treated he let out a shuddering sigh of relief. The blond's heart panged again as Italy lifted his watery, red-rimmed eyes to meet Germany's calm blue ones and brought the injured fingers to his lips. Germany's small flush flared up immediately when Italy touched a gentle kiss to each of the bandages, causing his face to go scarlet. The color in his face wasn't the only thing that flared up in response to Italy's kisses; that disconcerting feeling in his chest went wild, causing his heart to pound vigorously. Whatever was ailing him seemed to have just spontaneously gotten worse; he really needed to make time for that doctor's appointment he had been planning to schedule for himself.

"All better," Italy said quietly, offering him a weary smile. "That wasn't so bad, was it, Germany?"

"No," Germany sighed, deciding to just go with it. He was too busy trying to will the heat from his face to really care at the moment. "Uh, th-thank you… for taking care of me, I mean."

Italy's smile widened just a bit. "You were pretty brave, too. You only cried a little bit. Just as I'd expect from Germany… you're so strong."

Germany just rolled his eyes again at that comment and ushered Italy out of the bathroom.


	3. Chapter 3

While the first few incidences of the mysterious feeling were certainly unsettling, it wasn't until later that Germany really started to worry about his health. It was the last day of the world conference, an event he always dreaded. Even though the general amount of half-assedness and ridiculous time wasting was fairly consistent throughout the entirety of the conference, the last day always seemed to be the worst. It probably had something to do with the fact that after spending a week in these boring, stuffy, minimally productive meetings, by the last day, everyone just wanted to get out of there.

Germany had been scheduled to do an environmental presentation that day, something which he could imagine everyone grumbling about behind his back. Regardless of everyone else's reluctance to listen to his proposal, Germany put his best effort into it, just as he always did. Well, perhaps not his ivery best/i effort this time, because things had been busy for him lately and he hadn't had quite as much preparation time as he would have liked, but he made due with the time he had.

He had stayed up late after yesterday's meeting, rehearsing his speech, doing some last minute fine-tuning and making sure his slideshow would work properly. Thankfully, his presentation had gone off without a hitch, but he felt quite drained afterward. When America stood up to give his proposal, some complete nonsense about how global warming could be combated by making giant snow-cones and packing them onto the melting polar ice caps, something unprecedented happened. Germany's head began to nod.

At first, no one noticed, and Germany was thankful for that. He straightened up in his chair at Italy's side and took a drink of water in hopes of waking himself up a bit. That held him for about two minutes. He began to nod again so he pinched the back of his hand under the table. But eventually, his fingers slackened and his head drooped onto Italy's shoulder. Italy started out of his own nap in response to the sudden contact and looked down at the top of Germany's head in surprise. From across the table, France nudged England in the ribs and nodded in Germany's direction. England's massive eyebrows shot up in disbelief.

It wasn't long before awareness of the situation had spread to every nation around the table, including America, who had stopped spewing nonsense to just stare. Germany, their pillar of seriousness, their one straight man (well, in one manner of speaking, anyway), appeared to have fallen asleep during a meeting. All of them looked around at each other in stunned silence. Romano was seething, biting his bottom lip so hard in his fury that he could taste blood in his mouth. In any other situation, he would have given that rotten potato bastard a good punch in the head for falling asleep on his brother's shoulder like that, but he was thinking the same thing as everyone else. If Germany, the only one who kept these meetings from going completely to hell, had fallen asleep, then who was going to stop them from leaving early? Romano decided to allow it for now, but he was going to make sure that damn macho potato would suffer later.

America looked around the room happily, then held a finger to his lips, and pointed to the door. As quietly as possible, everyone gathered up their belongings and slunk out of the meeting room. Italy watched them go with a tearfully as his stomach growled. If he moved, Germany would wake up and he might call them back to finish the meeting and everyone would be mad at Italy for not holding still. But if he didn't move, he would surely starve. What should he do?

Italy looked down at Germany sadly, as if hoping he would help him find the answer to his problem as he usually did. That's when he noticed just how unbelievably young and carefree Germany looked in sleep. The little stress wrinkle between his eyebrows had smoothed out, his features relaxed, his boyish lips parted slightly. Italy was entranced by those lips. He ran his delicate fingertips over them lightly, hesitantly, exploring the unexpected smooth suppleness he found there.

Italy bit his own lip thoughtfully. He really liked Germany. It was ok to give kisses to people you really like, right? Of course it was; otherwise how were they supposed to know that you liked them? Because Germany's head was resting on his shoulder, there was no way he could reach his lips, so Italy settled for pressing a kiss to the top of the other man's head. It turned out that it wasn't just Germany's lips that were unexpectedly soft; his hair was surprisingly silky as well. And it smelled nice, like green apple shampoo. Italy nuzzled his face into it with a quiet giggle. When Germany shifted in his sleep, his hand brushed Italy's under the table and Italy took it, lacing their fingers together happily.

Suddenly, Italy wasn't so sad about being stuck alone in this room with Germany. Sure, he was still kind of hungry, but he was willing to put that on hold for once. After all, it wasn't every day that he got a chance to watch over his friend during such a vulnerable moment. Italy switched Germany's hand to his opposite one so that he could put an arm around the blond's broad shoulders and tugged him just a bit closer, his lips curling into a gentle, contented smile as he watched Germany sleep.

* * *

Germany awoke about two hours later with a start. It was partially dark and he didn't know where he was. Had he been kidnapped? He sat up straight, intending to observe his surroundings more closely when he realized that he was completely unrestrained. Then his eyes fell on Italy, who was smiling serenely at him, and he knew he was safe. Italy always completely lost his head in times of crisis. If he was smiling, then there was nothing to worry about. Germany rubbed the sleep from his eyes and cleared his throat.

"Good morning, Germany!" Italy chirped. "Did you have a nice siesta?"

"S-siesta?" Germany stammered. "Me?"

"Yeah, Germany fell asleep on my shoulder during the middle of the meeting," Italy explained unconcernedly. "Everyone was really surprised!"

Germany felt the contents of his stomach go cold. Oh god, how could he have been so stupid as to fall asleep during the middle of a meeting when he was the only one that kept them from going completely insane? Then something else that Italy had said caught his attention.

"I…Did you say that I slept on your shoulder?" Germany asked, his face already warming up in trepidation of the answer.

"Yep, Germany rested his cheek right here and took a nice, long siesta!" Italy grinned, pointing to the spot on his shoulder where Germany's cheek had been resting. "I think you might have drooled on me a little, but I don't mind if it's Germany!"

To Germany's horror and mortification, there was a little wet spot on Italy's shoulder. His face went scarlet as he lowered it into his hands. "God, I'm so sorry, Italy. I don't know what came over me. That's the most irresponsible and inconsiderate thing I can remember having done in a really long time."

Italy stroked his friend's hair soothingly, not looking the least bit bothered by all this. "It's ok; it wasn't Germany's fault. You were sleepy and these meetings are always so boring."

"How long was I asleep?" he asked, feeling humiliated.

"Umm…" Italy looked down at his watch. "About two hours."

"_Two hours_?" Germany yelped. "That's… Why didn't you just wake me up?"

"Well… I thought about it, because I was starting to get pretty hungry, you know," the smaller man admitted. "But Germany always works so hard, and I thought you could probably use a little break."

That funny feeling was flaring up in Germany's chest again as he looked at Italy's patient, sunny smile. But that gentle warmth in his heart was nothing compared to what he would experience when Italy dropped the bomb on him.

"Besides, I like being able to relax with Germany!" he trilled. "It makes me really happy when I can be next to you! And Germany's sleeping face is really cute!"

That statement embarrassed him so much that he hid his face in his arms which were folded on the tabletop in front of him. But Italy wasn't finished yet.

"You know, Germany has really nice lips," Italy chattered obliviously. "They were really soft when I touched them before. I wanted to kiss you but I couldn't reach."

"Please…" Germany mumbled. "Please, just stop talking. With each thing you say, I tell myself that I couldn't possibly get any more humiliated but you keep proving me wrong."

Apparently, that had been the wrong thing to say because Italy looked completely crushed.

"Eh? Does… Does Germany think I'm disgusting?" Italy asked tremulously. "D-does Germany hate me?"

"Ah, no!" Germany said quickly. "That's not what I meant at all…!"

"Then…" Italy lowered his eyes shyly. Germany was stunned to see a slight blush coloring his cheeks. "Would Germany mind if… if I kissed him?"

Germany's heart rate kicked into overdrive and his face went scarlet again. What could he say? Sure, the thought of kissing Italy was embarrassing but if he examined his feelings closely, he was worryingly unopposed to the idea. But what would accepting Italy's kiss mean for their relationship? What did Italy hope to gain from this? Was this just Italy being his affectionate self or was he seeking something deeper?

"Please?" the smaller man asked quietly.

"I, uh… well…" Germany stuttered. He swallowed hard and stared determinedly at the tabletop. "O-ok then…"

The second the words left his mouth, he found Italy's lips pressing against his firmly. Germany's mind and body were in such a state of turmoil that the actual sensation hardly registered. His heart was pounding so hard that he feared it might burst and his cheeks felt as though they were on fire. And Italy's lips were sinfully silky and warm and… was… was Germany actually enjoying this? He was vaguely aware that Italy was nibbling his bottom lip gently, teasing it skillfully with his tongue and letting out a little hum of happiness.

By the time they pulled away, Germany felt lightheaded and dazed. What was happening to him? He felt so confused, but it wasn't an altogether unpleasant feeling. And that sensation he had been worried about for the past few months was burning within him, stronger than it had ever been. Italy stole another quick, light kiss before separating from him with a thoroughly enchanted smile.

"Thank you," Italy purred. "Germany's lips were just as nice as I thought they would be."

"Ah, ahem…Er… I'm… I'm glad I lived up to your expectations," the blond mumbled. "Shall we, um… shall we start heading back to the hotel, then?"

"Ok," Italy said softly, taking Germany's hand again joyfully. "Hey Germany, can I sleep with you tonight?"

"What, all of a sudden you're asking my permission?" Germany frowned.

A slight blush warmed Italy's cheeks again and he looked at the floor. That kiss had confirmed certain things he had been wondering about for quite some time now and this made it harder for him to be quite as forward as he had been previously.

"Well, I suppose I don't mind as long as you stay on your side of the bed and keep your clothes on," the German said sternly. "And no bursting in on me in the shower, either."

"I'll try," Italy promised. And he really would. Probably.


	4. Chapter 4

It was quite a while later before Germany finally got around to scheduling that doctor's appointment he had been meaning to make. The doctor had been frowning thoughtfully as Germany had described his symptoms: racing heart, flushing, dry mouth, tightness of the chest, difficulty concentrating, occasional mild weakness in the knees, and all of these things happening at such random times with no warning.

He mused that they sounded like stress-induced symptoms, but said that he thought it strange that Germany would suddenly develop these problems with no apparent catalyst. After all, Germany's work was no more demanding now than it had ever been and there were no important events approaching that might cause the increased stress. It wasn't until the doctor asked him what he was usually doing when these ailments arose that the answer finally came to light.

"I've noticed the symptoms when I'm spending time with a particular friend," Germany realized slowly. "Now that I think about it, it only happens when he touches me or smiles at me or expresses concern for my wellbeing… But what on earth can that mean? Certainly he causes me a lot of stress but compared to the past, the amount of stress he's been causing me lately is significantly lower… But if being around him is the only thing that causes me to feel this way, then surely there's some connection…"

"Yeah, I would say there's a definite connection," the doctor agreed with a grin and an eye-roll. "To be honest, I'm surprised that you've never experienced these symptoms before. You're twenty years old, aren't you?"

"Well, give or take a few months," Germany replied dryly.

"Then again, you seem like a very serious, hardworking young man," the doctor continued. "Maybe you've always been so focused on what's expected of you that you never allowed yourself time to take notice of the people around you. This friend of yours must really be something to be able to get to a studious guy like you."

Germany looked down at the floor. "Yeah, he's something, alright…"

The doctor's grin widened as his patient lapsed into a thoughtful silence. He allowed Germany to brood on his "special friend" for a couple seconds before snapping him out of his reverie with another question. "Out of curiosity, are you experiencing any of your symptoms right now?"

"Hmm?" Germany's hand drifted absentmindedly to his heart. "Actually, I am… How strange. He's not even here right now and yet my chest is…"

The doctor laughed and patted Germany's shoulder congenially. "I thought so. You've got it bad, huh?"

"What do I have?" Germany asked urgently. "If you know, then please tell me!"

"Don't worry, it's not a disease," the other man assured him. "In fact, it's perfectly healthy for a man your age."

"Huh? So… you're saying there's absolutely nothing wrong with me?" Germany puzzled.

"Yep, you're fit as a fiddle," the doctor confirmed, scribbling some notes on his clipboard.

Germany frowned. "But then… when you said I've 'got it bad', what did you mean?"

"It's not really something someone else should spoil for you," he replied elusively. "It's much better to figure it out for yourself. Well then, Mr. Weillschmidt, I have a three o'clock I need to hurry to, but take care of yourself and good luck with your friend."

Germany had been hoping to return to an empty house in order to have some time alone to sort out his thoughts and analyze the doctor's words. Therefore, when he saw his brother's car in the driveway, he groaned internally. Prussia had been spending suspicious amounts of time at Austria's place lately and while Germany certainly loved his brother, he would be lying if he said it hadn't been nice having him out of this hair for a while. Couldn't that have lasted just one day longer? Sighing heavily, Germany let himself in.

"I'm home," he muttered.

It came as no surprise to him at all to see Prussia sprawled out on the couch in front of the TV, an Xbox controller in his hands, playing Halo with the volume turned up way too loud. As Germany came in, Prussia glanced over at him for a split second in acknowledgement before jabbing furiously at the buttons in order to mow down some aliens with his laser gun, making completely unnecessary machinegun noises with his mouth to compliment the game's already ample sound effects. The blond was too used to Prussia's general weirdness to even think it strange when he saw that his brother's precious pet bird was manning the other controller, apparently facing Prussia in two-player mode. Germany bent down to pick up the remote control from the floor and turned the volume down to a more tolerable level.

"There you are, West," Prussia said distractedly, his eyes not leaving the screen. "I was wondering when you'd be back; we're all out of beer and your snack collection is truly unworthy of the awesome me! Where the hell were you?"

Germany pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to ward off a swiftly approaching headache. "I was at the doctor's office. And there's absolutely no reason why you couldn't go to the store and get the beer and snacks yourself; you've got a car."

"Yeah, but going to the store is so plebeian," he snorted dismissively. "And I know that if I nag you long enough… Wait, did you say you went to the doctor?"

Germany was genuinely surprised when Prussia actually paused his game and gave him his full attention. Gilbird cheeped irritably in protest at the interruption in game play, but for once its owner ignored it. "You sick, West?" he asked, all traces of joking vanishing from his normally smug face. "You're not gonna kick the bucket and leave the awesome me all alone are you? I mean, being alone is way fun and all but…"

The blond was touched. It was rare that his brother showed signs of giving a rat's ass about anyone other than himself. "Well, I thought there was something seriously wrong with me but the doctor just smiled and said that it was perfectly normal."

It appeared that he had said the wrong thing because the warm brotherly moment vanished in an instant and Prussia's usual amused look returned to his pale features. "What, West? Did you get all freaked out when you touched yourself at night and some weird white stuff came out?"

Germany fixed his brother with a thoroughly unimpressed look. "Firstly, you're probably the _last_ person I want imagining what I do in bed. And if you do imagine it, I don't want to know about it." He had to suppress a shudder at the thought. "Secondly, I may not get around as much as you claim to, but I wasn't born yesterday; even I know basic things like that. Thirdly, ino/i, that's inot/i why I visited the doctor and I'd appreciate it if you didn't make twisted assumptions like that."

"Uh oh, looks like West missed his naptime," Prussia teased. "Someone's a little bit pissy today."

"Of course I'm frustrated," Germany huffed, folding his arms. "That doctor sent me away without any answers. He acknowledged that something was going on with me but he refused to tell me what it was. Naturally, I'm glad to find out that I don't have some terminal illness, but something's definitely out of the ordinary and my purpose in asking a doctor about it was to get some answers, not to be told to figure it out myself."

Prussia sat up on the couch, set his Xbox controller on the ground and turned off the TV. "Take twenty, Gilbird. Come here, West," he said, patting his knees. "Sit in awesome big brother Prussia's lap and tell me all about it. I'll bestow some of my wondrous knowledge on my poor, lost little brother."

Germany decided to take Prussia up on that offer (though not the part about sitting on his lap, of course). It seemed a bit of a long shot to hope that Prussia would have the answer to all his problems but despite the way he acted, he was older and therefore had more life experience. Besides, even if his brother proved to be completely clueless, it was nice to have someone who would listen while he vented his troubles. The blond sat down beside his older sibling on the couch. He opened his mouth to begin but Prussia stopped him straight away.

"Hold it, West; you're doing this all wrong," he said. "You've got to be lying down when you talk about deep psychological issues. Isn't that how old man Freud always did it?"

Germany sighed and rolled his eyes as he let Prussia coax him into lying down, resting his head on his lap. Honestly, he didn't even care anymore; he just wanted to get his worries off his chest and if lying down was what would make Prussia listen, then whatever.

"Right, now spill," Prussia ordered. "Tell your awesome big bro all about it."

"I guess it started a few months ago," Germany began uncertainly. "At random times during the day, my heart starts pounding, my face feels hot, my head feels fuzzy and my chest gets tight… It's almost as though I'm nervous, except… well, I didn't realize it until today when the doctor asked me about it, but all the strange things that have been happening to me seem to have something to do with Italy. These things always seem to happen when he touches me or smiles at me or expresses concern for my wellbeing."

"Oh ho, Ita-chan, huh?" Prussia interjected with a smirk.

"You know what Italy's like," Germany continued wearily. "He's inconsistent and illogical and always needs my help… It wouldn't be such a big deal if he was only like that sometimes, but it's all the time. It wears on me after a while. At first, I thought that the stress of having to deal with him was what was doing this to me but he hasn't been nearly as bad recently as was in the past so that doesn't really fit… When I mentioned Italy to the doctor, he seemed interested and we talked about him a little. Then I told him that those strange symptoms were appearing right then as we were talking and he said something like 'you've got it bad'. I haven't the slightest idea what he meant but when I asked him about it, he said it was something I had to figure out for myself…"

Prussia's smirk widened and he nodded knowingly. "Well, well, who would have thought, muscle-head West is actually… This is priceless, really."

"What is?" Germany asked eagerly. "Do you know what's wrong with me?"

"Of course I know!" Prussia bragged. "Honestly, only a simple-minded guy like you wouldn't be able to figure this out. It's actually kind of adorable how naïve you are."

Germany frowned, not appreciating his brother's condescending tone. "Can we skip the commentary, please? Just tell me."

"Sorry, West, but the doctor was right. I really shouldn't spoil the fun for you."

"What's going on?" Germany fumed. "Why won't anyone just tell me what's happening to me?"

"Don't worry, bro," Prussia said, grinning. "The awesome me would never leave his silly little brother in the dark. There are other ways I can help, besides just giving you the answer. Just you wait; I'll have you praising my superior intellect in no time."

Germany looked at the mischievous smile curling Prussia's lips and felt an overwhelming sense of foreboding in the pit of his stomach.


	5. Chapter 5

For the next few months, Germany devoted quite a lot of thought to his mysterious condition. He examined his feelings when interacting with other nations to see if anyone else could invoke them (so far, no one else had), and read through every manual he could find on the human psyche. Germany even tried asking a few of the others to approach Italy and see if they experienced any of his symptoms. When they asked him what symptoms they were supposed to be looking for and listened to his description, some of them would smile knowingly and tell him amusedly that no, they didn't feel anything of the sort.

Despite his efforts, he was no closer to understanding what was wrong with him than he had been after talking to Prussia. Germany felt frustrated and lost. Why did it seem like almost everyone understood the nature of his problem except for him? He was approaching his investigations in a very scientific and rational manner. Why couldn't he seem to make any real progress? So far all he understood was that it had something to do with Italy and was supposedly a completely normal phenomenon, even though he was the only one who seemed to experience it. That didn't make sense to him; if he was the only one who experienced it, that meant that it was _ab_normal, right?

When Germany came home that fateful night after a long, hard day of meetings, he had exhaustion to add to his growing list of woes. As much as he had tried to focus on the matters that had been discussed in his meetings, he found his thoughts constantly drawn back to Italy. What was Italy doing right now? Was he well? Was he thinking about Germany? As he wondered these things, his symptoms returned and he was struck with a strange and almost overpowering desire to see Italy right at that moment. Of course, he was in the middle of all-day meetings so that was out of the question and for some weird reason that made the tightness in his chest even worse. How could Italy be affecting him so severely even when they were nowhere near each other?

Germany stepped wearily out of his car and onto the pavement of his driveway. This whole ordeal was really starting to tire him out. He loosened his tie as he made his way to the mailbox in the dark to get his mail. His hand emerged from the depths of the mailbox with three envelopes. Germany pieced through them disinterestedly on his way to the front door. One was a bill, the other some documents he had been waiting for from one of his ambassadors in Japan, and the other was a small, white envelope, addressed to him in elegant black scrawl.

Germany let himself into the house, examining the white envelope with marginal curiosity. It almost looked like a personal letter, but who in the world sent those anymore in this era of email and cell phones? He turned it over to open it up and his curiosity spiked when he noticed that the wax seal on the back bore Italy's coat of arms. Germany tossed the other mail on the counter and tore the envelope open eagerly. Inside was a simple white card, covered in ornate silver writing. Germany sat down at the table to read it and at the first few words, he felt as though his heart, which had been troubling him for so long with its hyperactivity, had completely stopped.

"04.13.2010, Repubblica Italiana Veneciano and Republique Francaise request the pleasure of your company at their wedding celebration…"

Germany's throat felt as though it was closing and he couldn't continue. No, this couldn't be happening… There was no way Italy could possibly be… Italy and France… married? Surely he had read it wrong or misunderstood or something. He looked down at the card in his shaking fingers again. No, there was no mistaking it, it definitely said 'wedding celebration'. The desperate thought that this was a fake flashed across his mind, but both of their signatures were fixed at the bottom. Germany ran his fingers over Italy's signature. The luster of the ink and slight indent left by the pressure of Italy's pen as he'd signed his name were clearly evident, and Germany would recognize that penmanship as his friend's any day.

And as if to add insult to injury, there was a picture at the bottom of Italy and France together, their hands joined, wearing matching engagement rings. France was kissing Italy's fingers tenderly, and Italy was giggling, a delicate blush on his soft, round cheeks. They were the perfect model of a couple deeply enamored with each other. If Germany hadn't known the people in the photo, he would have said that they looked like a good match.

But he did know them and the very thought of Italy getting married to France, _France_ of all nations, filled him with a revulsion so strong he literally felt ill. Had France ever cared for Italy when he was sick or hurt? Had France ever comforted him after a nightmare? Would fucking France stay faithfully at his side through thick and thin, handling every mess that Italy made, getting himself through the struggle by telling himself that once it was over he could go back to admiring Italy's smile and treasuring his laughter as he always had? No! The answer to all those questions was no! Not only had France never been there for Italy, there was every likelihood that he never would be, even if they were married. France would remain the same lecherous, self-absorbed wino beardy bastard he had always been. And poor, sweet Italy, who, at least in the picture, looked like he genuinely had feelings for his groom-to-be, would cry himself to sleep night after night, waiting faithfully for the return of the husband who was out late every night cheating on him.

Germany didn't even notice that there were tears in his eyes until they pattered softly on the surface of that accursed wedding invitation. It was then, as Germany's heart broke quietly in the partial darkness that everything finally clicked in his head. Suddenly the general fluster he felt around the other nation, the heart throbbing, he constant desire to see him… it all made sense. He was madly, desperately, head-over-heels in love with Italy. How could he have been so blind?

Feeling empowered by his new knowledge and desperate to take some sort of action, Germany got to his feet and wiped his eyes forcefully. This was no time to sit around crying. He didn't know what he was going to do, but he had to do something. It was either that or he would have to bite his tongue and swallow his feelings until Italy and France eventually parted ways, and who knew how many decades that would be. With that thought fixed stubbornly in his mind, Germany raced out the front door, jumped into the car and set the course on his trusty GPS for Italy's house.

Germany shuffled his feet anxiously as he stood on Italy's front step, waiting for him to answer the door. He had rung the bell six times in quick succession so Italy should have heard him. The blond rang it again, just for good measure. To his relief, there was a groggy "Coming, coming" from inside and the door finally opened. Italy stood there in nothing but an oversized shirt (one that would have looked suspiciously familiar if Germany hadn't been too uptight to notice), yawning and rubbing his eyes in a manner that tugged fiercely at Germany's heartstrings, his hair tousled. When Italy saw Germany standing before him, he offered him a sleepy smile.

"Germany," he cooed. "I was just dreaming about you."

The smaller man curled his arms around Germany and hugged him contentedly. Germany returned the embrace uncertainly. Now that Italy was in his arms, he felt as though he could breathe just a little easier. But should he really be hugging Italy when he was betrothed? Even if Germany didn't think Italy's groom-to-be deserved him, it seemed wrong to hold him this way. For some reason, though, he couldn't make himself let go.

"I'm sorry to wake you up like this in the middle of the night," Germany mumbled into Italy's silky hair, "but I… I had to see you."

Italy frowned. "Germany, are you ok? You're shaking…" He released his friend from the hug, moving his delicate, artistic hands up to cup the German's cheeks. Italy's worry only increased as he examined Germany's face. The other man looked upset and exhausted and seemed to be in pain. Italy's soft fingertips explored the skin beneath Germany's eyes gently, his own eyes widening in wonder. "And your eyes look a little bit red…"

The blond's cheeks reddened in shame as he carefully studied the ground in order to avoid Italy's gaze. Italy stood on his toes so that he could touch a light kiss to Germany's cheek. "Why doesn't Germany come inside and let me make him some warm milk tea with honey?" he offered quietly. "You look like you've had a bad day."

Germany allowed himself to be led inside by the hand, shutting and locking the door behind them. He let Italy direct him to the couch and watched him disappear into the kitchen. Germany sighed and lowered his face into his hands, trying to collect himself and organize his thoughts. The only thought that had been in his head during the drive over to Italy's place was that he had to do something. He honestly hadn't thought this far ahead. What on earth was he going to do? It wasn't as if he could get down on his knees and beg Italy not to get married. Even confessing his feelings to him at this point seemed callous. If Italy really loved France, Germany had no business getting in the way.

Italy reappeared in the front room with two mugs. He pushed one of them gently into Germany's hands and sat down beside him, snuggling up to his side. Once he was settled, Italy took Germany's arm and gave it a little squeeze of encouragement as he sipped his tea. It took all Germany's willpower to refrain from scooping the smaller man into his lap and holding him and refusing to ever let go.

Italy was watching him silently in amazement. Germany was always so strong and level-headed. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he had seen him so upset. It was the redness under his eyes that really mystified him, though. He recognized it well as it was something he himself had worn many times. But the thought of Germany crying was almost unfathomable to him. His heart clenched painfully as he wished he could have been there to dry Germany's tears.

"What's wrong, Germany?" he asked quietly. "Did something bad happen at your house?"

Germany hesitated. He should have expected this. It seemed that Italy was as oblivious to Germany's feelings as he himself had been until just a few hours ago; he didn't even realize how much that wedding invitation had hurt him. In all likelihood, Italy probably expected Germany to be happy for him and give him his blessing. Italy was always saying that Germany was his best friend; what if he asked him to stand up in his wedding ceremony? He didn't think he'd be able to handle that. Germany tried to calm the excruciating lump in his throat with a swallow of tea but it didn't help much.

"I don't even know what I'm doing here," he muttered, mostly to himself. "It's already too late. I know that. I know that but… I can't just give up and not say anything."

"If there's anything Germany wants to say, I'll listen as closely as I can," Italy promised quietly. "And if it's a secret, I promise I won't tell anyone, even if they point a gun at me, so don't be afraid, ok?"

"I shouldn't say it, though," Germany continued. "I… I have to respect your feelings and choices, even if I don't understand them. It's my own fault for even letting it get to this point. If I would have just noticed sooner, then maybe I could have… Anyway, speaking out at this point would just be selfish."

Italy plucked the mug from Germany's hands and set it with his on the coffee table so that he could climb into the taller man's lap, straddling his thighs so that he could face him as he gently stroked his cheek. "Germany is always working so hard and thinking about other people before himself," he whispered against the blond's lips. "I think it would be ok if he did something selfish for once."

Germany could feel his face growing hot as Italy's warm lips grazed his teasingly and it sent another shock of pain through his heart to be toyed with in such a manner. He wanted more than anything to pull Italy's lithe body against him and taste those candy-sweet pink lips of his. _I can't,_ he told himself. He's _engaged, I can't kiss him. I shouldn't even be letting him sit on my lap like this and I certainly can't kiss him. I can't…_

But Italy's soft mouth tempted him again by touching his lightly and the dam of self-control in his head splintered and broke. Before he was even fully aware of what he was doing, he had jerked Italy flush against him, closing that miniscule distance between their mouths in a shamefully needy way. In his desperation and inexperience, he accidentally nipped Italy's lip a little too hard, causing the Italian to startle at the sudden pain. Italy separated from him a fraction of an inch.

"No need to rush," he breathed soothingly. "We have all the time in the world so let's just take it a little slower, ok?"

"Sorry," Germany mumbled, his face scarlet.

He could feel Italy smiling against his lips as he leaned in again, reinstating the kiss gently. Germany let his eyes flutter closed, allowing the more experienced man to lead. The kisses started out brief and light, a playful meeting of mouths. Then Italy nibbled Germany's lower lip, swiping across it with his tongue in a silent request for entrance. Germany failed to bite back a little moan as Italy's tongue slipped into his mouth.

All of Germany's senses seemed to be heightened at that moment. He was painfully aware of the gentle pressure of every contour of Italy's body against his, and the sensation of the smaller man's tongue teasing his own skillfully. His suddenly sensitive nose picked up the fresh scent of Italy's shampoo and body wash from his evening shower. Italy's mouth tasted wonderfully of honey, cream and lemon from his tea, the flavor a feast to his taste buds that was second to none in his opinion. Their combined hums and moans of pleasure were music to his ears, and the fact that Germany's eyes were closed didn't stop him from seeing fireworks. The whole experience was so sublime that Germany managed to completely forget the pain in his heart, just for those few moments.

Finally, Italy pulled away, his eyes slightly hazy with bliss after the unexpected outpour of passion, his cheeks flushed adorably, his lips slightly swollen from the loving attention Germany had just lavished on them. Italy's smile evolved into a giggle and he nuzzled his face happily into the crook of the blond's neck. Germany could feel the wounds in his heart being ripped open again even more harshly than before as the reality of his situation came crashing back down on him. With every ounce of resolve he possessed, he pushed Italy away gently. Italy looked at him questioningly, hurt reflecting in his soft brown eyes.

"The… the reason I came here t-tonight…" Germany ground out, "was… was to say that I… I l-love you… Even if we can't be together, I… I can't help feeling that way…"

The pain and confusion in Italy's eyes deepened. Germany was too busy trying to fight back his own tears to notice.

"I'm… I'm sorry for doing something so selfish…" he continued. "I…I wish you and France e-every happiness… and pr-promise not to get in your way…"

"Why can't I be with Germany?" Italy asked softly. "I don't understand… if we love each other then we should be together, right?"

"You're getting married to France next month!" Germany choked, his voice cracking humiliatingly. "Don't tell me you've forgotten your own wedding!"

"Oh… to France nii-chan?" Italy replied slowly.

"God, if only I'd… r-realized my feelings sooner…" Germany sighed shakily. "I feel like s-such a fool…"

"Hmm, this is kind of weird…" the Italian muttered to himself.

"If _you _think it's weird, imagine how I felt when I saw the invitation!" Germany pointed out. "That was the first time I'd even heard that there was anything between you two! I thought you were afraid of him!"

Italy's frown deepened. "Germany got an invitation?"

"What, wasn't I supposed to?" Germany snapped. "Were you just going to get married and not even mention it to me?"

"No, no! I swear!" the Italian squeaked. "I just thought it was weird that Germany got an invitation to my wedding before I did! Waah, I'm sorry! I'll do anything so don't hit me! "

"Wait…" Germany said slowly. "What? What do you mean, you didn't get an invitation? Who in the world sends themselves an invitation to their own wedding?"

"Well, see… " Italy began. "I don't remember France nii-chan ever proposing to me so I thought it was kind of weird. But what Germany says is usually true so if Germany says I'm getting married then I must be getting married…"

"Huh? This… this is the first time you've even heard of it?" Germany gasped. "Then what the heck is this?"

Germany reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out the invitation he had received. Italy examined it curiously.

"That's your signature down there, isn't it?" the blond demanded, jabbing at the name at the bottom.

"Hmm… sure looks like it," Italy admitted. "I wonder… last week, France nii-chan came over and asked me to sign a blank card. When I asked him what is was for, he said it would help Germany. I wanted to help Germany, so I signed it right away!"

"Then… what about this picture?" Germany asked urgently. "That's you, right?"

"Um, yeah… but…" Italy trailed off, frowning thoughtfully.

Then without warning, he pushed himself off of Germany's lap and rushed into the other room. Germany could hear him rummaging around for a moment before he returned with a photo in his hand. He handed the photo to Germany. The taller man's eyes widened. It was a picture of him and Italy together, one they had taken at the park after their picnic last autumn. Italy's arms were curled around Germany's shoulders, which looked slightly stiff as Germany returned the camera's gaze self-consciously. What stood out most (besides Italy's beauty among the fall colors) was the fact that Italy's face looked exactly the same in both pictures. The joyful laughter and soft blush that Germany had thought were directed at France were actually directed at him. His heart rose hopefully.

"Germany's the only one who could make me smile like that," Italy said softly, touching a kiss to Germany's cheek.

"Italy…" he breathed. The smaller man just smiled at him warmly. Germany blushed and cleared his throat as he turned back to the two pictures. "So this was Photoshopped? But who on earth would…" He paused as something clicked in his head. "Prussia!"

Of course, Prussia was always screwing around in Photoshop, making ridiculous pictures by sticking Gilbird's head on Godzilla's body in a scene of it rampaging around the vital region Moscow to send to Russia, whom he hated. Besides that, he remembered what Prussia had said to him a few months ago when he had confided in him: "The awesome me would never leave his silly little brother in the dark. There are other ways I can help, besides just giving you the answer. Just you wait; I'll have you praising my superior intellect in no time." And Prussia had always been pretty buddy-buddy with France.

Germany actually laughed out loud in relief. "You're… you're not getting married."

Italy grinned and shook his head. Germany couldn't bite back the smile that was spreading across his own face as Italy threw his arms around him.

"Italy, I, um…" Germany trailed off, blushing as he gathered his courage, "forgive me if this seems too forward or awkward; I've never really asked anyone this before, but… I'd like it if we could be together. I mean, as uh… as lovers."

Italy giggled in adoration at Germany's stiff, inexperienced manner in voicing this request, thinking that he wouldn't trade him or his awkwardness for anyone or anything in the world. He pressed his lips to Germany's again happily.

"I'd love to," he purred.

Germany's small, shy smile returned as he stole another tender kiss. When they pulled away, Italy yawned and rubbed his eyes sleepily, which in turn set Germany off yawning.

"Mm, is Germany sleepy, too?" Italy asked. "Germany can sleep with me in my bed tonight."

"I… ahem, ok," Germany replied, blushing hotly. The Italian kissed his flushed cheek with smiling lips as Germany shifted him in his muscular arms, cradling him like a child as he carried him to bed. As Italy's warm, slender body snuggled up to him under the covers, Germany decided that he owed Prussia a big thank you and might even be inclined to nod his head (bowing would just be too much) to his older brother's so-called "superior intellect".


End file.
